


Burgers and Buildings (feat. two idiots in love)

by superwholockwhatidk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Diners, Fighting, Fluff, Hurt Dean, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Gore, Sam Ships It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 17:26:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7370926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superwholockwhatidk/pseuds/superwholockwhatidk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just a normal hunt, with a slightly suspect big bad, until Dean gets separated from Sam and Cas. Will they get to him in time? And will Dean and Cas finally spill feelings that have been bubbling over since Cas became human?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burgers and Buildings (feat. two idiots in love)

**Author's Note:**

> I have been on a fanfic hiatus for too long, but I'm going to try and write a load in July for camp Nanowrimo to make up for my absence. Hopefully I haven't lost the ability to write readable stuff!

Dean was completely alone. And that sucked ass. 

In terms of company the hunt had started out okay: Cas had joined them, forced to ride along in the car ― Dean mourned the loss of his wings, it must've sucked for Cas, but he really did wonders for breaking the monotony of the ride ― and on day one the hunt was looking downright peachy. They had drawn up to a diner that looked pretty good and within minutes Dean was chomping down on a truly excellent burger. 

Cas had been watching with slight bemusement as Dean ate his body weight in meat, the former Angel having taken slightly less vigorously to eating actual food. Of course, at first he had been delighted at everything not tasting "like molecules" but soon he had taken to Sam's way of vegetables and despair. Dean felt he had to eat twice as much as Cas and Sam combined, just to make up for the gap in their diet that should have been filled with donuts and burgers. Or even donut-burgers (which even Dean had to admit, seemed to shorten his life span with each bite). 

"So, what're we dealing with?" Dean asked through a mouthful of cheeseburger, his mind already only half on the conversation, the other half being wholly concerned with a serious dilemma: which flavour of pie he would soon be consuming. 

"I interviewed the witness, and after some prompting" Sam glared pointedly at Cas for a moment "We managed to find that Ms Brown does practice witchcraft." 

"She had pictures of us. And clothes. And hair." Cas said, unease clear in his voice. 

Dean had laid a hand on Cas' shoulder to calm him down before promptly belching, killing any moment that may have arisen. 

"Man, that's disgusting." Sam commented wrinkling his nose. 

Cas smiled at Dean's outburst and the tension had been broken at the table. Dean had never been more happy to give off gas in his life. A phrase he's totally attributing to the concussion his addled brain is suffering at the moment. Shit. 

Dean snaps into the present, to feel rubble constricting his chest. The fact a that he's having such vivid flash-backs can't be a good thing. But he's not ready to face the present. Each breath he takes shifts the layers of something that are making it hard to breathe. Soon he ignores the pain in his ribs and falls into the haze of memory again. It’s way easier than facing the realities of his situation.

After Sam had explained that the witch had gotten their pictures ― and other creepy relics ― from the last hunt they'd worked in this town, which had involved werewolves, not even a hint of a witch, even Dean was feeling on edge. 

"If you payed Ms Brown a visit then how come she's not six feet under? Or at least in the boot of the car?" 

Cas seemed inclined to agree with Dean's analysis of the situation as he turned to Sam and cocked his head to one side. Sam sighed and proceeded to explain.

"One witch is the least of our problems. You remember what we came here for, right?" Sam asked, and Dean had inclined his head. 

"Three missing kids, both under ten years old. It seemed a bit fishy." 

"Right. The thing is, Brown is into just small-time witchcraft, making the flowers grow and keeping the community thriving, and that kind of thing. She only has our pictures as a precautionary measure. We are hunters, after all. But she’s also tuned into witchy-radio, which means she heard something was going down. Apparently the kids, and more kids, apparently, are needed for some sacrifice. And the point of this sacrifice is to raise a drainer demon." 

"A drainer demon?" Dean asks.

"Apparently it is like a giant white serpent, and it drains the life out of its victims and absorbs their intellect―"

"Wait, are you saying that we could effectively be fighting a giant, human munching worm? For real?" Dean says, grinning. Cas was slightly less amused. 

"Drainer demons are dangerous, Dean. I encountered five on my way to find you, in hell, and they were hard to kill. Several ange— of my brothers were killed during those skirmishes. We need to stop this sacrifice from happening." Cas says, and as per usual Dean’s heart contracts at Cas’s inability to even acknowledge his time with the angels, as he finds it too painful to even acknowledge his time with them as a thing of the past.

The emotional pain Dean feels at the memory jerks him back to the present, where another physical pain has surfaced. The universe has decided that in addition to being crushed by what feels like a fucking huge pile of rocks, Dean’s knee also needs to be on fire with pain. Dean can feel the blood rushing to the surface, and without the ability to look down at the wound his senses are heightened enough to feel the cold gush of blood over his knee. 

Dean tries to turn his body and bite down on the side of his jacket, just to take his mind off the pain, but he realises he can’t. It’s become impossible for him to raise his body even an inch off the ground. 

With a sense of growing panic Dean thrashes from side to side, trying desperately to free himself from something, to gain some degree of control over his body. But all he actually manages to achieve is coating his eyelids and lips in dust. Which tastes shitty. 

Dean finally calms down, after realising that he can move both of his arms nearly a foot upward by moving his elbows. It’s not the greatest achievement, but it lets him get a handle on the situation, Literally. As his right hand can and does grab a piece of rubble and Dean uses it to anchor himself. He can also, while looking on the bright side, move his toes, which can’t be a bad sign. 

Dean starts to realise that this new found control isn’t going to help him one bit when he doesn’t move for ten minutes. And that includes mental movement. The calm state he’s managed to trick himself into has stopped those ever so distracting flashbacks, and what he really needs right now is a distraction. 

Then Dean realises the obvious. Maybe he’s in a worse situation than when he was trapped in a wooden coffin six feet under with room to move and escape, but this time he has one very valuable item that he most certainly did not have then: a phone. 

By moving his left wrist in circles Dean manages to dislodge his phone from his pocket. He immediately presses the speed dial. He almost cries with relief when it starts ringing. Now all he needs is his brother to pick up. But when the phone stops ringing (after a grand total of one repetition of the ringtone) it’s not Sam’s voice that comes from the device. 

“Dean?” comes the gravelly voice of Cas, unconcerned, with an undercurrent of pissed-offness. The unusual tone causes Dean to space out, as he wracks his brains to think of what caused cas’s mood towards him. 

They had been in the motel room, and Dean was pissed. Another child had been kidnapped, and Cas was insisting the entire thing was Dean’s fault. 

“I was fine when the assailant threw that flowerpot at me, Dean, there was no reason to stop the entire pursuit.” Cas had said, his arms crossed across his chest as he looked down disapprovingly at Dean, who sat slumped at the table in a motel room chair that was doing his back in. 

“You were bleeding, Cas, there was no way I was going to leave you.” 

“But it was just stupid to demand that Sam stay with us, he could have caught the kidnapper, and the whole hunt would have been over!” 

“I was not being stupid, it was a good idea to ask Sam to stay behind when he’s the best at all the medical-stuff!” 

“It was unnecessary!” 

“It was entirely fucking necessary, it was a goddamn head wound, Cas! Even I can’t just walk something like that off—“

“You guys,” Sam had said, with an air of smugness from his place lounging on his bed with a laptop, “fight like an old married couple.”

But Sam’s words had very little to no effect on defusing the situation. Cas’s mouth had been open to speak when Sam interrupted, and at the conclusion of Sam’s comment he just continued to speak, as if his flow of speech hadn’t been interrupted at all. 

“The point is that you used your overprotective complex, yet again, to justify letting the bad guy get away! You can’t keep doing that! Especially when in the future your life might depend on catching the perpetrator! You need to stop, it’ll just put you in more danger in the future!” 

Dean’s ego had been bruised by the comment that had directly insulted one of his core beliefs. So what if he was protective? He had a damned right to be in a life that so often ended with death, or worse. Couldn’t Cas understand that he needed to make sure he was safe? 

In the aftermath of the argument Dean had flounced out of the room with barely a backward glance, muttering something about needing a drink. But Cas’s words still had fucking smarted. He’d ended up chasing leads on the case, which eventually led to a witch trap collapsing a house on him. 

“Dean?” Cas’s annoyed voice asked again through the speaker of the phone. “Dean, I’m going to hang up. Drunk dial someone else next time.” 

Panicked, Dean immediately croaked out an answer. He wasn’t sure if he had enough energy to make another fumble in the dark for his phone. His body was getting stiffer with every passing minute. 

“Cas! Cas, please don’t hang up!” Dean croaked desperately. 

“What the hell have you been drinking to sound like that?” Cas asked, disapproval evident in his voice, though his voice was softer at Dean’s use of ‘please’.

“Not drinking, I’m under a house. It collapsed on me, and I can’t freaking move. There’s dust fucking everywhere and my knee really hurts and it’s kinda hard to breathe—“

“Are you serious?” Cas asked, not snarky, but genuinely questioning Dean’s honesty. 

“Yes, dammit, I could really use some help here bud—“

Dean broke off to cough at the influx of dust into his mouth. Opening his mouth to talk was definitely not a good idea. 

“Dean? Dean!” Cas’s voice asked, frantic as Dean physically couldn’t talk as he desperately tried to breath in clean air, that wasn’t available and would have been hard enough without what felt like boulders resting on his ribcage. 

“Dean, we’re going to get you out of there.” 

This time it was Sam’s voice, calm and collected, coming from the phone. Cas could be heard in the background, asking Sam what they’d need and, from the sounds of it, moving about all the gear they owned in an effort to find something. 

“Dean, I promise we’re going to find you.” Cas reassured, his voice shaking just a little. 

“I totally believe you.” Dean says, wincing at the sarcastic ring to his voice. “But just in case, you guys have been great. Thank you. And I’m sorry for being such a grade a d-bag most of the time—‘

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Cas says, cutting him off. His voice is steely, and filled with nothing less than holy fury. “We will get you out of this, as alive as I was when you seemed to think I was dying this morning.” 

At Cas’ words Dean’s mouth quirks into a smile, cracking his dry lips. 

“Thanks, man. I appreciate the crack at my—“ Dean has to take a breath to cough, “—past mistakes. But seriously, you have always been there when I needed you. So just, thank you.” 

There’s silence on the other end of the line before Cas, with a bit of a thicker voice, continues talking. 

“You’ll be taking all that back when I get to you.” 

The fondness in Cas’s voice takes away any hint at snark. 

“You’re damn right I will. 100%. But I might just take a nap before you get there.” 

In Dean’s limited underground space it’s getting harder to concentrate, and the slight light coming from his phone is wavering in his blurred vision. It just hurts too much to stay awake. 

“Dean, you need to stay awake, for me, okay?” 

Dean really would love to obey the deep voice, which is actually really smooth, how did he not notice this before? But it all hurts so much. He forces his eyes open, once, twice, but just can’t muster the strength for a third revival. 

“I’m sorry.” Dean slips out before his mind slips into unconsciousness. 

In the background of the fading call he hears Cas, who never even mildly curses, swear violently and say something. In response he hears an engine rev loudly, before the voices fade to a vague chatter, and by then the almost melodic creaking of beams above him is enough to drag him away from the land of the living.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hopefully I will have the second chapter up by the end of next week.


End file.
